


Sam Wilson Just Wants His Goddamn Sleep

by AwClintNo



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Humour, Light Angst, Multi, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Sam and Bucky being petty, Sam is (not) the Official Avengers Counsellor, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwClintNo/pseuds/AwClintNo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Sam Wilson just wants his goddamn sleep and, really, is that too much to ask for?</em><br/><br/>Ever since Steve and Natasha took refuge in his house during the events of <em>The Winter Soldier</em>, they've told everyone that it's totally fine to just barge into Sam's house and use it as a safe house. He won't mind - except, he kinda does.<br/>Sam doesn't like this, but he learns to enjoy it after a while.</p><p>(No CA:CW spoilers yet!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Hope You Stocked Up On Ice-Cream, Birdman."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Tumblr for providing me this idea because I LOVE THIS IDEA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony got kicked out by Pepper and arrives at Sam's door like a sad puppy. Until Sam agrees to watch chick flicks with him, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE SAM WILSON.  
> Also, I'm terrible at titles. Sorry 'bout that. That's all guys, carry on.  
> Feedback is always appreciated! :3

It’s 7 a.m. on a slightly cloudy Saturday morning and Sam Wilson just wants his goddamn sleep.

After guzzling down a large amount of his usual post-run orange juice straight from the bottle, he peels off his sweat-soaked shirt and flops on the bed with a large sigh, not bothering to shower. 

Sam is just about to fall asleep when a desperate knock sounds on his door.

“I swear, if that’s the frickin’ super-soldier, he’d better have a good reason for interrupting my sleep,” he growls, half-awake as he pulls on a fresh shirt and heads to the front door. The knocking continues. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

He had expected to see Steve and Natasha fresh from a fight, complete with cuts on their faces and slightly torn clothes. What he didn’t expect was seeing Tony Stark – yes, the Tony Stark – on his doorstep with a suitcase parked beside him and a forlorn expression on his well-groomed face.

“Well, well, well,” Sam says with a goofy grin on his face. “Look who came to visit! Iron Man himself. What's up?”

“Yeah, hey, Sam,” the billionaire replies sadly. 

_Huh_ , Sam thinks. _This is the first time he's ever called by my actual name. Something's definitely wrong_. “You okay, man?”

With another dejected look, Tony continues. “Pepper kicked me out of the tower and Rhodey's away on vacation in Bora Bora.” The sentence sounds rehearsed, as if Tony's been practicing it. “I need a place to crash, so is it okay if I stay here for a couple of days?”

“What about Steve? He's got a flat here in D.C. too. How about the rest of the team?” Sam asks. 

“Fury sent them all on missions.”

After eyeing Stark carefully, the soldier decides to let him in, his good-hearted nature taking over his suspicions. “You're welcome here anytime, Stark. Just...don't do anything that ends with a loud ‘boom’ or a destroyed house, ‘kay?"

“Yes!” The man in the doorway whoops, punching his fist in the air as he drags his suitcase past the threshold. “Hope you stocked up on ice-cream, Birdman, ‘cos I brought some movies with me.”

‘Birdman’ chuckles and shakes his head. “How'd you know where I live?” 

“I'm Tony Stark. I know where everyone lives. Now,” Tony stops, unzips his bag, and holds up two DVDs. “Shall we watch ‘Pretty Woman’ or ‘The Notebook’ first?”

“Is that all you brought?” Sam asks teasingly, settling down on the couch.

“Nope. Now, choose.”

Sam squints. “You brought chick flicks? Seriously, dude? And here I thought you came to me try and reclaim your dignity and masculinity after Pepper ‘shockingly’ threw you out.”

“That _is_ what I'm doing, my friend, but with the help of some of my favourite romantic films,” Stark insists.

The Falcon sighs and rubs his temples. Damn that Dorito for telling everyone that they could swing by his place anytime they needed a safe house or just a place to stay. After a small moment of silence, Sam finally answers. “‘The Notebook’,” he admits in a small voice. 

“See, this is why you're my favourite flying man," Tony says, popping the disc into the player and immediately heading towards the kitchen afterward. “So, where's the stash? I need to get my hands on some cookies and cream.”

“ **Keep your hands off of the damn ice cream**!”

“Too late.”

***

“My, goodness, Wilson. Are you _crying_?”

Sam sniffles lightly. “I am **not**. And even if I am, it's all your fault, Stark.”

“Have you never seen ‘The Notebook’ before?” Tony queries as he dips his spoon into a pint of ice cream again.

“Nope. This goddamn movie is making me cry.”

“Mmm. Wait 'till you see the ending.”

“Dammit, Tony!”

After the movie ends, Sam blows his nose into a tissue, watching the pile of use tissues grow bigger. “I think my tear ducts are dry,” he says in a slightly accusatory tone, wiping a tissue across his face.

“It's not my fault that you're easily moved.”

“I feel like I need to punch a wall to regain my manliness back.”

Tony pats the man's back in a mockingly soothing way. “Just because you're crying doesn't mean that you've suddenly turned into a feminine man, Wilson. Embrace it.”

“Are you saying this because you've been crying over your eviction?” The Falcon asks, tears in his eyes but a smirk on his face. 

Stark scoffs and waves Sam's words away. “NO. I'm just perfectly comfortable with my sexuality, that's all. Like that time I ordered a pumpkin spice latte and everyone was staring at me as if I was crazy. I'm comfortable, unlike Hawkass and Capsicle.”

“You _have_ been crying, haven't you?”

“Okay, yeah,” Tony admits. 

***

The next morning, Sam wakes up and realises that he and Tony had fallen asleep on the couch together after watching 6 films . Chuckling and shaking his head, he pokes Stark, whose mouth and legs are open wide. “Hey, Stark. I gotta go to the store to get some milk, okay?”

“Fly safe, Birdman,” was the half-asleep man's reply.

Sam jogs out the door and hurries to the store, hoping that Tony won’t wake up and turn his entire house into a lab of some sort. Rushing into the store, he grabs the milk, quickly pays, and runs out the door again. He arrives home just in time to see Stark walk out of the house, dragging his suitcase behind him, and loading it into a waiting cab.

“Hey, Stark! Where you going, man?”

The billionaire looks back as he shuts the boot and laughs. “Pepper wants me back. It was fun bunking over, Wilson. Also, I got a little surprise for you.”

“A little surprise?” Sam asks suspiciously.

“Yeah. I got you cable TV and some Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Should I send the bills over to you or something?” the soldier jokes.

“Nah. The TV and the ice cream are all free. For life. Courtesy of Stark Industries, of course,” Tony says with a large grin as he tips an imaginary hat on his head. “Just a little something for you in return. Your fridge is all stocked for my next visit!”

“How’d you get them that fast?!”

“I’m Tony Stark.”

“You think that actually answers the question?”

“It answers every question,” Tony replies as he gets into the cab. “Stop by the tower sometime soon, okay?”

“Will do, Stark.” Sam waves goodbye to the engineer, who is giving him a two-fingered salute. The cab then pulls away and heads to the airport, where Tony’s jet was no doubt awaiting him. “Free cable, huh? Let’s go check it out then,” he says to himself, feeling slightly lonely now that Tony’s gone. Of course, that loneliness doesn’t stay with him for a long time, thanks to his lifetime supply of cable TV and ice cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment on which pairing I should do next! Pairings are listed in the tags, so go ahead :D


	2. "He Prefers the Term 'The Other Guy'"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce destroyed the lab and the main level of the Avengers Tower and he takes refuge in Sam's house. Sam, being the awesome guy he is, lets Bruce in because WHO THE HECK WOULD LEAVE A RAGING, GREEN, 7 FOOT TALL MAN OUTSIDE OF THEIR HOME?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by WonderfulShippingAccident! Though this isn't really a 'sad Bruce bear' chapter...I don't know if it's any good, I kinda hit writers' block. So all of you can judge it! I'm sorry if the two of them seem kinda...out of character. Like I said, writers' block. *insert shrug here*  
> Enjoy! Feedback and requests are always welcome :3

**The next day…**

_KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK._

“Dammit, Stark,” Sam groans, smacking his hand against his face. “It’s 11 p.m.!” A grunt comes from the other side of the door as Sam approaches the door sleepily. “What’s a man got to do to get some sleep ‘round here, huh? _Huh_? I – _oh, shit_!”

The Hulk is standing outside of Sam’s house, his brows furrowed together in anger as he pants. “Man, you gotta stop turning up to people’s houses in your…angry state.”

“ **HULK**. **HUNGRY**.”

“Y-yeah, Bruce. Dr Banner,” Sam stutters, his eyes roaming up and down the Hulk’s green, rippled body in shock. “Whatever you want, man.”

“ **HHHNNNGGGGHHH**.”

***

“So, what’s up?” 

Bruce looks up from his chicken soup, which he is currently stirring sadly. “I kinda smashed…the Avengers Tower. Mainly the lab and the Avengers level.” His brown, puppy-dog eyes are eyeing his soup dejectedly. “So I decided to drop by your place. I mean, Steve said that we were always welcome here.”

“Steve said that?” _That son of a-_

“Hope you don’t mind,” the scientist says, still miserable. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Nah, it’s cool, Bruce. You can stay as long as you like.” Sam pats Bruce’s back sympathetically. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I think I’ll just get some sleep, if that’s okay with you. It’s been a long day.”

“Sure.”

***

The next day, Sam woke up to an eerily silent house. _Has Bruce left?_ He wonders. _Hope not. The guy didn’t bring any money. Speaking of money, how did he get here without it?_ Trudging down the stairs to the kitchen, he sees Bruce, meditating on the living room floor.

The man regards Sam serenely, with a weird Mona Lisa-like smile on his face. “Good morning, Sam. Sleep well?”

“Uh…” Sam is left speechless. “Yeah. I guess you did too. Is this, like, your _thing_?”

Bruce cocks an eyebrow at the question, still in a very peaceful state. “My ‘thing’?”

“I mean, is this what you do when…the Hulk-”

“He prefers the term ‘the other guy’. Or ‘the big guy’. They can be used interchangeably.”

 _What weird shit have I been dragged into?_ “Okay, is this what you do when… _the other guy_ makes an appearance?” Sam slowly sips a glass of juice, eyeing the meditating scientist carefully.

“Mmm-hmm.” Bruce breathes out deeply. 

“Cool. Okay. Oh, by the way, I’m going to visit my sister up in Boston for a couple of days.” The Falcon says it so casually, but deep inside, he’s nervous about this. “You could stay here until then. Only if you want to, of course.” _No, Sam. He could Hulk out and destroy your goddamn house!_

“Well, thanks!” Bruce gets up to his feet and beams at Sam happily. “I don’t think I’m ready to go back yet, so I’ll just stay here, I guess.”

“On one condition…”

That phrase made the scientist raise his eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Just please, please, please **DO NOT** hulk out in my house, okay?” Sam pleads. “I just repainted my walls last week!”

“No hulking out, I swear.”

“Pinky swear?”

Bruce looks at Sam incredulously. “You. Want me. To. Pinky swear.” he states slowly.

“Was that a question or a statement?” Sam asks sheepishly, scratching his head in confusion. “‘Cos it kinda sounded like a question but at the same time it-”

“I haven’t done pinky swears since I was…I don’t know, 4?”

Sam gasps dramatically, even clutching his chest for effect. “Now that, my man, is a crime in itself! We gotta pinky swear. It’s the only way to seal the deal.”

“You remind me of Tony sometimes,” Bruce says with the utmost affection, looking at the Falcon fondly. “Just…more likeable, of course.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Alright.” The scientist finally concedes and wraps his pinky around Sam’s. “Pinky promise.”

“Kiss your thumb.”

“What?”

“Kiss,” Sam starts, nudging his nose towards Bruce’s thumb, “your thumb. It’s the proper way to do it!”

“Whatever you say, Wilson,” Bruce sighs tiredly and the two of them kiss their respective thumbs simultaneously.

***

“Yo, Bruce!” Sam calls out as he steps through the doorway, lugging his small suitcase behind him. “I’m back!”

No reply.

 _Oh, shit._ Sam panics. _Has he left? What if he hulked out and then left? Oh, crap. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have left him here alone, I shouldn’t have-_

He stops his rambling inside his head once he opens the sliding door that leads to his backyard. It’s been…renovated. It now has a fountain in the middle and stone steps leading to it.

What. The. Hell.

And on that fountain is a note from Bruce:

**Hi, Sam**

**I hope you didn’t mind me making some changes in your backyard. It’s my way of saying ‘thank you’ to you for letting me stay. Feel free to stop by the tower sometime, I’m sure everyone would love to have you over.**

**Kind regards,**

**Bruce**

**P.S. I didn’t hulk out. See? I kept my promise. I think I’m quite good at this ‘pinky swear’ thing.**

Sam chuckles fondly at the note, sighing as he watches the water emerge out of the top of the fountain and make its way down to the base. It _is_ relaxing. Maybe he could do some yoga here, unwind a little. So, he grabs his yoga mat and heads out to the backyard again. Once he tries to replicate some simple yoga poses, he felt his knee crack as he tumbles down to the ground, spouting out curses at random intervals.

“Yeah, no,” he groans, rolling his shoulders. “I think I’m just gonna stick to sitting out here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Clint/Sam chapter is up next as requested by Sorceress_Supreme! Updates might come a little slowly because I have a trip coming up and I also have to write chapters for my other fics.


	3. Hawkeye²

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wants his sleep. That's all he wants. But when he finally gets to sleep, the two Hawkeyes + their dog Lucky decide to crash by. They decide to enlist the Falcon to help them look for Clint's missing hearing aids. 
> 
> Sam blames Steve and Natasha for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by Sorceress_Supreme :D  
> Yikes, sorry for not updating this more often...  
> Beta'd by the lovely BleedxLikexMe  
> Kudos and feedback are appreciated!  
> (Also, requests are welcome) :3

**The week after…**

The day the two Hawkeyes decide to pay Sam Wilson a visit just so happens to be the day Clint Barton decides to lose his hearing aids. Not purposely, of course.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asks as he opens his door at 2 a.m. to find two purple-clad human beings and a dog. “And who’s the girl?”

“The girl is Kate Bishop, the other Hawkeye,” Clint mumbles, dragging himself through the doorway.

“No, I think you mean the _better_ Hawkeye!” Kate calls after Clint, brushing past Sam. The dog decides to jump on Sam, slathering him in its slobber playfully. Being a dog person, Sam didn’t mind, but what he did mind was having two Avengers crashing at his house without so much of a notice.

“Alright,” he says once he reaches the kitchen, looking at the two archers. “Someone gonna explain to me why there’s two Hawkeyes?” 

“Sit, Lucky,” Clint instructs the dog and he obeys, wagging his tail as he plops down beside Sam.

“Your dog’s name’s Lucky?”

“Used to be Arrow when the tracksuits had him, but I gave him a new one.”

“Let’s not get off-track. Two Hawkeyes. Why?”

Clint settles himself on the kitchen counter as Kate pulls up a stool, leaving Sam to sit on the armrest of his couch. “Long story short, Kate took over as Hawkeye when I was…well, dressing up as a ninja. That’s the…uh, _short_ version of the story.”

“Don’t think I wanna hear the long version. A ninja?” Sam says incredulously. “This is too much to process at two in the morning. I mean, it’s not every day you find out that once upon a time, an Avenger ran around dressed as a…I’m sorry, what was it again? _A ninja_?”

“He looked ridiculous in that getup,” Kate comments helpfully from her perch.

“Why are you guys here again?”

Clint takes a deep breath and starts. “The tracksuits were kinda terrorising the apartment that I live in, so we evacuated the residents and went to find a safe house for ourselves.” He says all of it in one breath, as if he’s been practicing it.

“So you decide to drive all the way to D.C.? Why didn’t you stop at the Avengers Tower? I mean, those guys, the ‘tracksuits’ or whatever, they wouldn’t dare to mess with the big guys, right? And why do you keep calling them ‘tracksuits’?”

“Um, I’m gonna need you to repeat all of that again in a second, because you talk really fast and I…kinda lost my hearing aids.”

“You _what_?”

“Lost my hearing aids,” Clint repeats, a sheepish look on his face.

“First, yes, we did decide to drive down to D.C. because Steve keeps telling us about you,” Kate starts. “Secondly, we didn’t stop at the tower because, c’mon, the Avengers have _definitely_ got better things to do than deal with the Russian mafia. Thirdly, no, the tracksuits wouldn’t dare to mess with the big guys. And last, but not least, we call them the ‘tracksuits’ because they have this weird affinity for tracksuits.”

Sam is, once again, silenced. _Goddammit, I just want to sleep without having any superheroes bursting in through my door for once_ , he thinks. “Right…but what about Clint’s hearing aids?”

Kate rolls her eyes and glares at her partner. “He lost it either during evac or in the car.”

“I can still read lips, which is why I can answer your questions,” Clint pipes up. “Hey, listen, man. If it’s not too much trouble, y’think you can help me look for ‘em in the car?”

 _No_. “Yes.” _But it’s two in the damn morning, Wilson!_ “Anything for you guys, I guess.”

The three of them go out to Clint’s nearly broken-down car, which is parked in Sam’s garage, and scan every inch of it for a pair of equally broken-down hearing aids. 

“No sign of them back here,” Kate hollers from the back of the car.

“Not here,” Sam calls out from somewhere in the middle.

“Aw, hearing aids. C’mon!” Clint rummages through the glovebox, lifts the mats, and even goes through his collection of coins in the car without any luck.

“Must’ve left ‘em back home, man.” Sam comes out of the car to put his hand on Clint’s slumped shoulder as the latter sits in the driver’s seat.

“They were the good ones,” he laments mournfully.

Suddenly, a weird gagging noise comes from somewhere inside the garage. The three of them swivel their heads around to see Lucky choking on something as he whines pitifully.

“Lucky!” the two archers yelp, running to him and crouching down.

“Can you perform the Heimlich on a dog?!” Kate questions the two men.

“Oh, God, no. What if he’s _dying_?” Clint gasps dramatically, fear and worry clouding his eyes. Lucky’s been through enough and he really doesn’t want his dog dying in his friend’s garage. _Wait, is Sam a friend?_ Clint thinks to himself amidst the commotion created by his dog. _An ally? Or…nah, never mind._

The two clutch Lucky as they yell hysterically at one another, looking for possible solutions. What they didn’t realise is that Lucky has stopped his choking and has spit out something oddly shaped onto the ground.

“Guys,” Sam calls out to them, attempting to calm them down. The hysterical shrieking continues, as unrestrained as ever. “ _Guys_! He’s okay.”

“What?” Kate is the first to respond, letting Lucky go as she looks at what he’d just spat out. “Ew. And oh, my God. Clint, are those…”

“My hearing aids?!” Clint pokes at the shattered remains that are covered in his dog’s drool. “Aw, Lucky! No! You get pizza every day and you still decide to gobble up my aids?!” Lucky whines pitifully and covers his adorable snout with his paws, but Clint wraps his arms around Lucky. “It’s alright, boy. Just don’t do it again, ‘kay?”

With that, Lucky’s mood changes instantly. He tackles his owner and starts licking his face lovingly.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any pizza, would you?” Kate asks, brushing herself off as she stands up.

“Pizza? No. Why?” Sam can only form one-word sentences now, because the two Hawkeyes and their dog have worn him out in a matter of minutes.

“Lucky eats pizza,” Kate offers offhandedly as she hauls Lucky off of Clint. 

“Lucky eats pizza?”

“Lucky eats pizza,” the Hawkeyes say unanimously.

All there’s left for Sam to do is to quietly curse Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff for telling everyone about him as he heads inside with the two purple-clad archers and their pizza-eating dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor/Sam is next! YAAAAAY!


	4. Big Blondie the Space Viking Pays a Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days after the Hawkeye incident, the Norse god of thunder decides to crash on Sam's couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a whole year since I updated this...I feel like a heartfelt apology is needed.  
> Anyway, here's some Thor, which alech was itching for _over a year ago I am so sorry oH GOD_  
>  I apologise for any mistakes that I've made!

**Two days later…**

Sam Wilson is a man of discipline and that’s no secret. It’s a given, being a military man. He has a schedule and you can bet that he follows that schedule every single day. It's been ingrained in his mind. Wake up at 5:45 am. Go for a run. Shower for 15 minutes. Have breakfast. The usual. To a great percentage of people, it might seem too monotonous and repetitive, but he likes it. It gives him a sense of stability in a world full of disorder. But ever since he met Captain America, that routine has been partially neglected. And ever since he met Captain America, it’s like he’s been dragged back into the war. 

He realises that he made that decision by himself and wasn’t coerced by either Steve or Natasha into joining the cause. In fact, Steve was rather apologetic about the whole thing, and it was clear that he didn’t want to drag Sam into a battle against a terrorist organisation.

“Dude, Captain America needs my help," he had said to Steve. "There’s no better reason to get back in.”

Sam didn’t regret his words, not one bit. He was overjoyed at the opportunity to be of service to the world’s greatest soldier, and the fact that he and Steve Rogers have had some similar life experiences helps a great deal. When the offer to join the Avengers came in, it was like all his dreams had come true, but he couldn’t find himself to accept the invitation immediately. He spent half an hour in the shower after reluctantly declining the offer, just wondering, _what the hell was wrong with himself _? It was then he realised that by joining the Avengers, he’d be bidding the stability and consistency of his old life adieu and he wasn’t ready to do that, not just yet. Sam was also hesitant to leave his clients, the members of his PTSD support group, behind. They had become a part of his life after his discharge from the military and he wasn’t willing to part from them just yet. By helping them, he’s also helping himself, in a way. He’ll miss them.__

__One of the most compelling reasons to join the team is the benefits that come along with the title of ‘Avenger’. A state-of-the-art training facility, spacious living quarters, _hot tubs_ (at least, in Sam’s imagination), speedy Wi-Fi...those are just a few of the benefits that Steve had rattled off to him._ _

__“After all, it’s Stark’s facility, so you can bet that there’ll be a lot more benefits,” the super-soldier had said in an attempt to lure Sam into joining the team. He had waxed rhapsodic about the members of the Avengers to Sam, but he had forgotten to notify Sam of one _tiny_ detail._ _

__He’d told his team that they were welcome to crash at Sam’s house in D.C. and treat it as a safe house anytime._ _

__That is why Sam’s routine has been partially neglected. That is also why he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. Sam Wilson just wants his goddamn sleep and, really, is that too much to ask for?_ _

__Two days after the big Hawkeye incident, he finds himself on his couch, beginning to drift off with the TV still blaring in the background when a deep, majestic voice calls for him._ _

__“Samuel, Son of Will!”_ _

__Sam groans. Hell no. He doesn’t have to guess who’s currently pounding at his door this time. It’s Big Blondie, the space Viking – or Norse god, whatever you want to call him – with the majestic mane and the ridiculous biceps. _Who referred him to me this time? If it’s Steve, I’ll kick his ass the next time I see him._ He bounds over to the door, turning his TV off. Before actually opening the door, he takes deep breaths and calms himself._ _

__“Hey, my man!” he greets Thor amiably although, to be honest, he’s tired of having people crash at his house without alerting him beforehand. “What brings you here? It’s night.”_ _

__“I require rest and some much-needed nourishment,” Thor booms._ _

__“Right. How’s space? What’s it called again…Asgard?” Sam asks as he steps away from the door, letting his visitor in._ _

__“Asgard is not faring well.” The god hangs his magical hammer on the coatrack, leaving Sam speechless. How is the coatrack worthy? How is the _coatrack_ worthy but _Steve Rogers_ – who has the purest soul in this wicked world, God bless him – isn’t?_ _

__“Alright, sounds pretty bad…you said somethin’ ‘bout food, right?”_ _

__“Yes. I am deeply apologetic for my abrupt arrival, my friend. I promise that I will not pester you for long, only for a day or so.” Thor follows Sam into the kitchen, setting himself down on a stool by the kitchen island. “My brother Loki has been causing yet _more_ trouble in our realm. How I long for the days when peace reigned over Asgard, when my brother and I stood by each other in battle. To my demise, those days are gone. They are like withered and decayed leaves that have been blown away by a gale that hints at the oncoming frost.”_ _

__“You should write poetry.”_ _

__“Many a people have told me that I have a way with words. Thank you, brother.”_ _

__“Did you say Loki?” Sam unscrews the lid off of a bottle of orange juice and pauses. He’s heard stories about him. “The guy who killed 80 people in 2 days? That’s your brother?”_ _

__“He’s adopted.” The god shrugs, as if he’s used to answering those questions. “The Captain has told me much of you. He considers you as his close friend, although he had told me that he has only known you for a short amount of time. Do you wish to do battle against my adopted brother?”_ _

__The befuddled owner of the house eyes the Norse god warily, taking the words in as he passes him a glass of orange juice. “Nah, man. I ain’t gonna ‘do battle’ against anyone just yet. Maybe later, when your brother isn’t being a space psycho.” Sam pulls out an ice cream carton and Thor visibly brightens, a wide grinning stretching from ear to ear forming on his godly face._ _

__“Ah, you are in possession of ice cream!”_ _

__Sam shrugs and studies the box. “It’s not much, I know. The two Hawkeyes almost emptied out my fridge last time and I haven’t gotten around to going shopping yet. This is all I have left in my fridge. Damn punks.”_ _

__“Tell me, brother, is that the strawberry kind?” Thor inquires, already leaving his seat to look at his second-favourite Midgardian food. “Oh, they are! Marvellous. We do not have the strawberry kind in Asgard. I can see that you are tired, Samuel. Allow me to prepare this by myself.”_ _

__“You sure this is enough for you? I bet you can gobble this up in five seconds. Wanna bet?”_ _

__“Please, I insist on preparing this by myself.” The carton leaves Sam’s hand and he just stands there, his hands still frozen in the same place as before, trying his best to process what had just happened. He’s beginning to feel less like a superhero and more like an unpaid counsellor for the Avengers whose clients keep arriving unannounced. All thanks to Steve and Natasha._ _

__Sure, he’s a trained counsellor and really, he wouldn’t mind at all if anyone comes over and wants to talk and get some help about whatever hardships they’re experiencing. He’d be prepared for that, even if they come knocking at some godforsaken hour of the night. But having superheroes and mythical beings crash on his sofa and empty his fridge? He’ll never be prepared for that. Not in his _life_._ _

__“I’m gonna kill ‘em,” he murmurs under his breath, still stuck in the same pose._ _

__“Loki?” Thor assumes as he rummages around for a spoon and a bowl, overhearing Sam’s murmured statement. “You are full of spirit, my friend! The Captain’s tales are true, then. We shall do battle with Loki soon! Prepare yourself for the oncoming war.”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m gonna go and prepare myself. By sleeping. Call me if you need anything.”_ _

__“Call? Are you instructing me to use the telephone when I am in dire need of help?”_ _

__“…No. By ‘call’, I literally mean ‘call’. Shout. Holler. Yell.”_ _

__“Ah! Of course. I shall leave you to rest.”_ _

__“You can watch the TV if you want. And please try not to burn the house down.”_ _

__“Thank you, brother. I have been meaning to...‘catch up’ with ‘Game of Thrones’.”_ _

__“...You watch ‘Game of Thrones’?”_ _

__“As our friend Stark once said, ‘who doesn’t’?”_ _

__“You’ve been hanging around Tony for way too long, man.”_ _

__“I know.”_ _

__***_ _

__**The next day...** _ _

__“Thor? Hey, man. You still there?”_ _

__A gigantic snore rips through the house as an unconscious Thor lies contently on the sofa._ _

__“Oh,” Sam sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches the sleeping Norse god on his sofa. “You are. And you snore too. Great. I should, uh, leave you a letter in case you wake up while I’m still out,” He keeps muttering as he grabs a Post-It and a pen from the table by the door. “Next time, I’ll clear out my fridge myself before those purple pigeons come so they can just starve and buy their own goddamn food from the store. Alright, alright. So, what should I write?” Sam taps the pen against his chin thoughtfully as another snore reverberates through the house. “‘ _Dear Thor_ ’. NOPE. Nuh-uh. Too ‘dear diary’. How about...just ‘ _Thor, I went to the store to get some food. I’ll be back soon. Sam. P.S. Please don’t ruin the grass outside. Or burn the house down._ ’ There you go.” _ _

__Sam places the neon yellow Post-It on the table beside the sleeping blond man and grabs a coat that’s hanging by the door. “If he accidentally burns your house down, you can just get Stark to buy you a new one,” he whispers to himself reassuringly. “It’s all good, Sam. S’all good.”_ _

__***_ _

__**25 minutes later...** _ _

__“Man, I should’ve brought him along for help,” Sam gripes as he hauls five grocery bags into the house. He insisted on not making two trips to his car, only because he knows that a certain super-soldier wouldn’t. And during that five-bags-at-a-time trip, he learned a valuable lesson: just because you’re friends with a super-soldier who doesn’t do double trips doesn’t mean that _you_ should do the same. Noting the absence of a certain mythological figure, he groans. _Where the hell could a six foot four man in a red cape go without being noticed? _he asks himself, unpacking the bags. Breaking the comfortable silence in the house, the door swings open, giving Sam the mother of all heart attacks.___ _

____“Motherfu-” he starts, stopping himself when he sees Thor enter the house. “Goddammit, Thor! You scared the hell out of me!”_ _ _ _

____“My apologies. I have returned from an outing to the Burger King. Many of the diners requested to take pictures with me while I was ordering my food and I indulged them by taking ‘selfies’ with them.”_ _ _ _

____“Where’s your food?”_ _ _ _

____“I ate it on the way here. I would not have been able to enjoy my food amongst the throng of people asking me for ‘selfies’.” Sam offers the towering a man a glass of water and he accepts it, downing it in one go. That’s one thirsty guy. “I should have worn civilian clothes, but I did not bring any.”_ _ _ _

____“Say ‘selfies’ again.”_ _ _ _

____“Selfies,” the god of thunder says in that deep, booming voice of his._ _ _ _

____“Amazing.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m afraid my time here has been cut short, brother. Jane called me from Iceland this morning shortly after you left for the store. She had a new discovery that I urgently need to see, and I am sorry to say that I must be going.” He gently places his glass in the sink and grabs his hammer, which is still hanging on the coat rack._ _ _ _

____“Is it about Loki?” Sam inquires._ _ _ _

____“It might be. I worry about him.” Thor pushes the sliding glass doors that lead to Sam’s small, but lovely, garden. “This is a very nice garden, brother. I did not know you liked gardening!”_ _ _ _

____“No, no, no. This was a gift from Bruce.”_ _ _ _

____“Dr. Banner? He is an admirable man. Now, I must be off. I hope that when I return, you will finally be ready to do battle against my brother.”_ _ _ _

____The bewildered house owner leans against the sliding doors. “Well, don’t hold your breath, Blondie.”_ _ _ _

____He chuckles heartily. “‘Blondie’. I’ve heard that one before. Goodbye, Samuel. Until next time.” Thor swings his magical hammer round and round in circles beside him, increasing in speed until it’s pretty much a blur, and _whoosh_! He’s gone._ _ _ _

____Just. Like. That._ _ _ _

____“Aw, man,” Sam groans, inspecting the burn mark that the Norse god has left behind on his pristine lawn. “I swear, this guy’s got absolutely _no_ respect for grass. Steve had better be ready for a whoopin’, ‘cause he’s about to get one.”_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is Bucky, so you can expect some SamBucky pettiness and some feels.  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


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